


Dick Out To Detroit

by Aurum_Auri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Memes, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 09:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: Yuuri woke up after the banquet having met his soulmate. The only problem is that he doesn’t remember who it is. The bracelet of color around his wrist means SOMEONE he touched in the last twenty-four hours was his soulmate, despite his lack of recollection. But when Yuuri accidentally sends Victor Nikiforov a 'what if we were soulmates' meme, he finds himself with a surprise soulmate he never would have expected.





	Dick Out To Detroit

**Author's Note:**

> Here's July's NSFW fic, as voted on by you! Thank you to everyone who supports me for your endless patience!

Everyone had a soulmate. This was something everyone, even children, knew on the most basic level. It was the same way that people understood humans had a brain somewhere in their skull. 

The form of it was exceedingly simple— a pattern of color around the length of the arm, the style and shade of which was as unique as a fingerprint. In the heart of it, usually nestled in the inside of the wrist but occasionally other places, was an open circle. When you met your soulmate, that open circle would fill in with their unique pattern. Filling in a missing piece, making up your other half. 

Yuuri didn’t remember when his missing piece was filled. 

Hungover, with the shower running in the hotel bathroom, Yuuri was frozen. He stood there, staring at his reflection while the mirror began to fog at the corners. For his entire life, a trail of open spots lingered up his arm. Large, empty circles of pale skin were spaced up the inside of his forearm, one at his wrist, one at the crook of his elbow, one on the top of his shoulder, waiting to be filled. It was only when morning came, last night’s banquet a blur in his mind, that he realized something had changed. That _ he _had changed. In each of those once-empty circles, surrounded by a pattern of dark blue and purple fleur-de-lis, were bright blue roses, blooming on his skin like the real thing. They were beautiful. 

Yuuri let out a scream. 

Celestino pounded on the door, frantic. “Yuuri? Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

“It’s fine!” Yuuri yelled. He wrapped his arms around himself. He was shaking. His soulmate. They had met, they had been close enough to touch. Why couldn’t he remember? “I’m fine, everything is fine!”

It had to be someone in the skating community. Yuuri knew that much. The banquet was only for skaters, sponsors, and people closely affiliated with the ISU. It narrowed the board, but no one jumped out as a likely candidate. 

“Do you need anything?” Celestino asked, still sounding gravely concerned. 

Yuuri shook his head, despite knowing Celestino had no way to see it. “Everything is fine! I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“If you’re sure…” Celestino, clearly remaining unconvinced, added on, “don’t forget our flight leaves this afternoon. Think you’ll be ready in half an hour?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Yuuri said. “I’ll be ready.”

His hands were shaking as he stepped into the shower, hurrying to clean himself off. Time was short, and Yuuri carefully pushed all thoughts of blue roses from his mind. 

If they were truly meant to be, whoever it was that now had their fate entwined to a useless, failure of a figure skater, they could find Yuuri. Otherwise, it was simple— who would want a disgrace to all of figure skating for a soulmate? No one. And Yuuri wouldn’t press the issue. 

Tacitly calm, or as much as could be, he dried himself off and slipped a cloth sleeve over his arm. A soulmark was such an intensely private thing, before it was completed. It was common for people to cover it, until their marks were completed. The empty spots were like showing off some naked aspect of yourself. It didn’t feel right to show off the marks now, even complete. 

Yuuri had a few minutes to spare once he was dressed, and he spared his phone a short glance. Phichit deserved to know, at least. He would find out eventually. 

He took a deep breath, booting up the messaging app. Almost all the servers he was in, he had muted. They made him uneasy, and gave him the feeling of not quite belonging. One of them in particular, was a group chat for those who skated in international events. As it encompassed countless skaters, even those who only qualified for a single Grand Prix event, it was massive, and Yuuri carefully kept it muted. 

He was certain smaller chats existed between cliques of skaters. Phichit, Guang Hong, and Leo had one such chat, mostly filled with memes and shitposts about ice skating. Yuuri knew he was welcome to join if he wanted but… he didn’t feel right intruding. And he certainly didn’t want to know what the other chats would have to say about his absolutely dismal performance. 

He sent Phichit a quick message wishing him a good night, as it was late in Detroit. Then he held his breath, snapped a picture of himself without his shirt, and sent it. 

He closed the phone and dressed. 

When he came back, his DMs had exploded. Phichit was frantic, dying to know who it was. But Yuuri had no answers. He told him as much. 

**phichit-chu **

WAIT YUURI WHO IS IT 

DONT LEAVE ME HANGING 

COME BACK

YUUUUURIIIIII

The stream of messages dissolved into increasingly more frantic custom emoji, each of them screaming hamsters flailing in the chat box. Yuuri typed a quick response. 

**Y-Katsuki**

I don’t know who

I don’t remember anything from last night 

What followed was a near meaningless stream of emoji, some shocked, some just incomprehensible. Yuuri hit the video call function, and after a moment of ringing, Phichit answered. His face was too close to the camera, no makeup, but bright-eyed and wide-awake despite the late hour back home. “Yuuuuri! What happened?”

“Like I said, I’m not quite sure. I… had a few drinks last night. But I just stayed in the corner! I didn’t talk to anyone. I don’t understand how or when I could have bumped into someone!” Yuuri could feel himself growing anxious from the mystery of it all. 

“You don’t have _ any idea?"_ Phichit said. “That’s it, I’m sharing pics on the group chat, someone has to know-”

“Nooooo,” Yuuri cried. “Don’t do that! I don’t want everyone knowing I have no idea who my soulmate is- and anyway, what if they aren’t on the chat? Or what if they want nothing to do with me-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Yuuri! You know anyone would kill to be your soulmate!” Phichit said. 

Yuuri sighed. “If only they were true. It’s fine. We’re flying home today. I’ll see you soon, okay? And _ don’t _post it in the skate server.”

Phichit pursed his lips, sulking. “Fine, okay. _ For now. _ See you soon, Yuuri. Fly safe!”

“See you soon,” Yuuri said, hanging up. He finished packing his things, head hanging low. He had done terribly so far. Nationals were right around the corner, and everything was riding on them. If he didn’t pull himself together…

Unbidden, images of Vicchan flashed before his eyes. His throat grew tight, and he couldn’t breathe. His vision swam. Failure tasted more bitter than ever before. 

* * *

A week later, things were no better. Yuuri was on edge all the time. He shuffled through his routine in a daze, shoving food in his mouth at a gluttonous, stress-induced pace. Nothing brought back Vicchan. Nothing ever would. Yuuri felt like he was on a collision course with the ground, and he knew that when he hit, it would hurt just as bad as losing Vicchan still did. 

There were days when it was easier than others. Sometimes he could distract himself from the near-overwhelming panic that consumed him. Skating helped as much as it hurt, in a way. 

His own routines tasted bitter, like failure. But running Victor’s routines tasted sweeter, reminded him of better times, when he was young and the world was simpler and smaller. Skating Stammi Vicino, learning every intricacy, every gesture of his arms, reminded him of what he loved about skating. 

But as the days passed, Yuuri’s soulmate was never far from his mind. Phichit tried to crack jokes with him to keep him from fretting over it, and Yuuri tried to keep Phichit from worrying too much over nothing. 

Laying in bed at night, Yuuri was bleary-eyed with exhaustion (and possibly a few cans of something alcoholic that he definitely shouldn’t have gotten into). With his finger, he tapped around on his phone, uploading a stupid meme he’d made into Phichit’s DMs. 

He heard a laugh from the other room. A message popped up. 

**Phichit-Chu**

Oh my god that’s amazing 

Where did you get those pictures of yourself???

**Y-Katsuki**

Your Instagram 

God I just want to know what poor sap is stuck being my soul mate 

Yuuri grumbled in his bed, scrolling back up long enough to look at the meme he’d made again.

It wasn’t anything too fancy, just one of those ones that featured an unflattering picture of his face and said “what if we met and we were soulmates? Haha just kidding.” Beside it was another unflattering image, this one looking almost coy, if Yuuri wasn’t so puffy cheeks and goofy looking. Above it, it said “unless…?”

> [View post on imgur.com](//imgur.com/8GRHmBJ)

Yuuri snorted to himself. It was just a silly meme, and the flesh colored sleeve under his shirt hid the marks on his arm completely, so it wasn’t as though the pictures were revealing anything they shouldn’t. He rubbed his temple. He had drunk too much. Even the words on the screen were beginning to blur 

**Phichit-chu**

Omg I need to send this to Leo and GH pls pls pls just let me send it 

**Y-Katsuki**

NO! 

Please don’t share it around 

**Phichit-chu**

Pleaaaaassssseee just them?? No one else??

**Y-Katsuki**

Ok fine 

But I’m sending it to them 

Yuuri sat back, grumbling to himself as he scrolled down the very short list of people he had DM’d. He didn’t see a chat with just Leo and Guanghong, so he quickly fired up a new DM, added users from the skater group chat that was always muted, and sent it on its way. 

His eyes were heavy after all that, and he fell promptly asleep, in a soft, hazy, liquor-fueled daze. 

Yuuri didn’t think about the next couple of days. He forgot his phone at home, but Yuuri wasn’t really the kind of person who spent all his time on the phone anyway. It was the weekend, and the weekend meant more time to relax his own routines and practice Stammi instead. It was the only time it didn’t feel like he was up to his ears in his failures. 

Stammi Vicino was a magic spell. The longing in it seemed to speak to Yuuri. Something out of reach he wanted to hold close, it was right there. Everything he had ever wanted had been close enough to taste. But it was so far away, and it had been a lie to think otherwise. 

He closed his eyes, and he ran it one more time. 

* * *

It took 15 sleepless hours to fly from St. Petersburg to Detroit. It took far less time to pack everything he would need, grab the long-standing permit for travel he kept updated for Makkachin, and book themselves two flights out of Russia. 

A few pulled strings to get his visa into America, and in all, it took only a day and a half to arrive in Detroit. Victor was breathless as he checked his phone one last time. 

Beautiful, stunning, _ dazzling _Yuuri Katuski, soul mate and love of Victor’s life, hadn’t replied after sending him that meme, but it told Victor enough. 

It was time. 

It was hard to reconcile the quiet, focused creature he had seen at the rink in Sochi with the wildly sexy dervish that had taken him by the hand and heart in the banquet. But god, that only made it _ better_, kept him on his toes every second. And his _ routines. _

Okay, to be fair, they could stand to be improved. Yuuri wiping out on the ice wasn’t optimal, but his step sequences were a dream come true and his spins were something of pure beauty and grace. The jumps, they could work on together. _ As soulmates_. 

The word sent shivers down Victor’s skin. As a child, he’d been fascinated by the marks on his skin since the day they appeared, dreaming of the moment the incomplete pattern would fill. Years of covering his arm in costumes and slips of fabric, protecting his future, and he’d almost _ missed it_. But seeing his blue roses bloom on Yuuri Katsuki’s skin was almost more than he could take. His roses, his marks. 

It swelled in Victor’s chest. Yuuri was his, and destiny was never wrong. 

Okay, maybe he’d had a few doubts during the last couple of weeks, when Yuuri hadn’t so much as tried to contact him. But that was changing now. This was a sign. Yuuri messaged him with a soulmate meme, and while it was perhaps a little bit unconventional, it was everything Victor needed and more. 

So what if Nationals were a week away? This was more important by far. Since Yuuri wasn’t answering his phone, Victor had a plan. There were only a finite number of ice rinks in the area that Yuuri could potentially practice at. Surely one of them had to have people who would know where Yuuri would be. 

Victor also had a last resort in the form of Phichit Chulanont, who might be able to tell Victor what he needed to know, though it wasn’t certain. 

The first rink he checked had several photos of Yuuri and a few other skaters hung on the wall, making it a very likely candidate. There was music playing, soft outside the rink, but when Victor opened the door to the ice itself, it was unmistakable. 

Stammi Vicino was playing though a little speaker on the side of the rink, and in the middle of it all, Yuuri Katsuki was skating _ his _routine, Victor’s FS. He was so beautiful. 

Victor was frozen in place, watching as Yuuri marked the jumps, focusing more on the flow of the routine on the ice— the motion of his arms, the sweep of his leg, the way the blades carved delicate lines into the ice with soft sounds. And that flow… 

Victor sucked in a breath, scarcely able to believe the vision before him. Yuuri wore long sleeves and gloves, his soulmarks covered, but Victor knew, _ he knew _that just beneath the fabric, his marks were inlaid in the spaces between Yuuri’s. 

The music fell silent, the last notes fading over the ice, and Yuuri stood motionless, breathing heavily. Victor’s eyes sparkled. Was this a surprise for Victor, waiting for the day they met again? Was it a secret Yuuri planned to keep in his back pocket?

Every fantasy Victor had ever entertained, every vague musing about what might happen if he ever met his destined other half, none of it compared. His soulmate was better than all that. 

“You did my routine,” he said, breathless with awe. “Yuuri… my Yuuri.” _ His Yuuri. _Victor liked the sound of that. 

Across the rink, Yuuri froze in place. His eyes went wide as saucers, big and brown and shocked. Then, to Victor’s shock, Yuuri let out a scream and promptly fell on his ass. 

* * *

Yuuri took Victor back to his apartment. Where else was he supposed to take living legend, five time consecutive Grand Prix gold medalist Victor Nikiforov? 

So now they were sitting in Yuuri’s modest living room. Yuuri was glad he’d tidied lately because he was pretty sure he’d die if his stuff was strewn about when Victor came over. As long as Victor stayed out of the bedroom…. everything would be fine. 

“So we’re… really soulmates?” Yuuri said at last. The couch felt too small and intimate for this kind of conversation with Victor, but the choices were limited on Yuuri’s college student/figure skater budget, and the secondhand couch was in good shape for the price he’d paid. He tried to ignore the stain on the arm and hoped Victor didn’t judge it. 

So far, Victor didn’t even seem to notice. He swept around the place, beaming at everything he saw, grinning at Yuuri like he was deliriously happy. And maybe he was? It felt wrong to think it, that someone could be this excited to have Yuuri as their soulmate, that _ Victor _could be this excited. 

“So… we are… soulmates?” Yuuri said skeptically. He pursed his lips, then pulled his shirt off over his head, trying to ignore the tiny peek of flab starting to soften his midsection. Stress eating suddenly felt a bit less attractive. 

Showing off the marks up his right arm and shoulder felt worse than being naked, but he showed them to Victor all the same. It felt like baring his soul to another. His hands had a slight tremble. 

Victor sucked in a breath. His blue eyes sparked as he raked them down Yuuri’s arm, taking in the bright blue roses amidst the darker hues of blue and violet. They were the same color, Yuuri realized, as Victor’s eyes, as the blue roses Victor got at all his competitions. 

Victor unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. As each sliver of chest was exposed, Yuuri could feel his nerves skyrocket. Victor was sculpted, gorgeous, unfairly beautiful as his long sleeved shirt at last fell away, revealing Victor’s soulmarks. 

It was Yuuri’s turn to fall breathless. It was unmistakable, the pattern there: Yuuri’s fleur-de-lis sprouted between the thickets of roses. Dark swirls of color gave depth and dimension to the stunning, bright blue roses that bloomed on Victor’s right arm. They matched, not identical, but complementary in their flipped color schemes.

Yuuri held his breath, trailing one finger down Victor’s forearm, following the line of dark blue between the brighter shades. “I- I don’t believe it-” he whispered. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Victor said. His voice was warm with pride, with joy. It bubbled in Yuuri’s chest in a way he couldn’t describe. He liked hearing Victor so happy. It struck him that he so rarely heard Victor like that in any of his interviews, even after shattering records and making history. 

“I just… I’m having a hard time believing it,” Yuuri said. “When did we even touch? When did this happen? Did we even talk at the banquet?”

“Talk at the- is that a joke?” Victor said, laughing a little. It was such a bright sound, so rich with delight and a childlike giddiness. “Watching your soulmarks bloom while we danced was a dream come true.”

“We danced?” Yuuri screeched. 

Finally, the smile fell away. “You don’t… remember?”

“I don’t remember anything from the banquet,” Yuuri said, alarm growing in his chest. He shook his head, staring at a spot on the couch. His chest was so tight it hurt. “I don’t- didn’t I just stand in the corner all night? When did we dance, when did we talk or touch?” He was getting almost hysterical now. 

Victor looked horrified. “You don’t remember? This- this isn’t a joke, is it?”

Yuuri shook his head. “A joke? Why would I joke about this? I really don’t remember anything from that night, Victor. I’m just… I’m still shocked you’re even here.”

“But… you sent me that message,” Victor said. “Surely that meant you knew something, right?”

“What message?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor scrambled to grab his phone. He opened the group chat app Yuuri used with Phichit, opening up a DM with Yuuri’s name and icon on it. Yuuri went still as he took in the meme he had accidentally sent to Victor. 

_ What if we were soulmates? _

What if, indeed. Yuuri looked back at their arms. He scrambled to his phone. “I sent that to Leo- I thought- oh my god,” he gasped, finding the DM. He’d misclicked on the name. There was no mistaking it. He’d sent the meme to Victor instead. Yuuri let out a strangled scream.

Victor sat back, stunned. “This… this was not what I expected.”

“Oh shit, what did I even _ do _ to get you to fly all the way here with a week until nationals? Surely it wasn’t just me sending you a meme-”

“But that’s what I was waiting for,” Victor said. “You asked me to be your coach, you told me you’d text me. You never did.”

It was Yuuri’s turn to sit down hard on the couch, staring at the wall in a daze. “What… what else… did I say?” He asked in a small voice. 

Victor leaned forward, a strange vulnerability in his eyes as he passed Yuuri the phone. “Every picture in this folder, it’s from the banquet. Look through them. Tell me if you remember?”

Yuuri thumbed through, letting out sounds of horror as the pictures grew increasingly more compromising with each article of clothing Yuuri shed. He could also see the moment he and Victor touched, the moment forever inscribed in a picture. 

Their eyes met, their hands were laced together in the starts of a dance, and Yuuri’s naked arm was beginning to bloom. It was so horrifically embarrassing that Yuuri was ready for the sweet release of death to take him. _ Everyone had seen it. _

Yuuri let out another soft sound, this time of despair. 

“You were so amazing, Yuuri, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. So sensual, so inspiring,” Victor said. “You truly remember none of it?”

Yuuri buried his face in a throw pillow and groaned loudly. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him. Yuuri peeked again, shellshocked by the sight of him. 

Raw sensuality flooded every photo, something intimate and pure, but burning with an edge of flirtatiousness. And in every picture, Victor was smiling the happiest smile Yuuri had ever seen in his life. 

It put every other picture to shame, every poster on Yuuri’s wall, every magazine spread. None could compare to the brilliance of this smile on Victor’s face. It made Victor look so beautiful, it hurt to behold. 

“I…” Yuuri murmured as he reached the end of the slideshow. He’d pole danced with Chris, break danced with Yuri Plisetsky, and still none of it compared to realizing his soulmate was _ Victor fucking Nikiforov. _

Yuuri stood up without a word, heading to the kitchen for a bottle of whatever alcohol he had laying around. He didn’t have much, but he had a bottle of cheap white in the fridge. He returned with two glasses and sat back on the couch, drinking a very large glass without another word. 

He offered one to Victor. “Sorry, it’s not nice like at the banquet. It’s for cooking, usually. Phichit loves wine sauce.”

Victor stared in silence at the glass, taking a sip. Yuuri could see the edges of a grimace, before it was carefully and artfully hidden under a mask. Yuuri’s lip twitched. 

“I don’t drink, usually. I thought this was a special occasion,” he said humorlessly. “I don’t ever remember what I do when I drink. I wanted… to forget that night, believe it or not. I wanted to just get through the banquet without thinking. I didn’t want to remember. But I forgot something important,” Yuuri said, fierce now. 

He could feel his heart aching with the loss. He needed to know what happened that night, more than anything else in the world. He needed to know how it felt, he needed to know it was real. He needed more than a picture and some words. 

“If I have a bit… just a little… maybe I’ll remember something,” Yuuri said. “Maybe I can somehow remember… how it felt… to hold you in my arms.” His voice cracked, and he drowned another glass of wine, trying to hide the way his eyes were misting at the corners. 

Victor leaned forward, taking the glass away from Yuuri’s hands. “Yuuri… you only need to ask. We can dance again. You don’t need three bottles of champagne to do that.”

“Th-three?” Yuuri sputtered. He fell silent again, and he looked from Victor’s eyes to the floor. “It’s not that I don’t think I could. It’s that I don’t know why you would. I failed everyone at the Grand Prix final. I failed my family, I failed my coach, and everyone who was expecting me to do well. I failed myself. I failed…” Yuuri’s voice cracked. Vicchan. 

“But you didn’t fail me, Yuuri,” Victor breathed. “The only way you could have failed us would be if we never spoke, if we never touched. But we did, Yuuri. We met, and our soulmarks came alive, and my whole world changed. You did that. There’s more to life than one competition, Yuuri. And… I see that now, when I look at you.”

“Can we dance?” Yuuri asked in a small voice. 

Victor stood, and he offered his hand with a smile. “Nothing would make me happier.” There was no music, and Yuuri wasn’t quite drunk enough for this. 

The first few steps felt wooden and unreal. They didn’t know the lines of each others’ bodies. Destiny, the universe, fate, whatever it was that controlled soulmarks and designated two people as one soul? It had chosen Victor and Yuuri.

Yuuri would be the first to scream from the mountaintops that the universe was wrong, that Victor deserved better. But he had seen matches, and he had seen people who ignored them. His parents, Yuko and Takeshi. They perfect together in a way that two people so rarely were. 

Yuuri closed his eyes. He focused on the warmth of Victor’s touch. “It doesn’t feel real,” he whispered. 

“Why is that?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri struggled to find the words. Despite his nerves, talking to Victor was so… _ easy_. Like talking to another version of himself, like talking to a Dream Victor who wanted to know every trouble and struggle. 

Yuuri shook his head. There would be time for talking later. He had Victor’s hands on his waist, and he’d be a fool to open his damn mouth and ruin it. Yuuri turned on a Spotify station and let music curl lazily into the air. 

“Is this how it felt?” Yuuri whispered. 

“A bit,” Victor said. “But it's a cruel tease compared to what it was before.” 

Cruel. It stung in Yuuri’s heart. Yuuri broke apart from Victor and took a drink straight from the bottle, eyes burning. He turned on a new station, faster, something to better dance to. 

He seized Victor’s shoulders, feeling an echo deep in his mind. They danced, for real this time, their bodies moving together more easily now than before. He wanted to bring that feeling back to the surface, dredge up the memories from wherever they’d been locked away. 

They danced, and they sipped at the bottle together. Between the two of them, it wasn’t enough to be drunk, but enough to make things softer along the edges. Enough to let inhibitions seem more like suggestions. The music whirled in the air, bright as starlight. 

Yuuri couldn’t hold back a laugh, and Victor joined in as though it was infectious. He couldn’t stop giggling like a fool, and he could almost feel it at the edges of his mind. 

He leaned into Victor’s touch, their steps clumsier than they had any right to be. They fumbled around, losing themselves into the music. Victor’s foot caught Yuuri’s leg, and they suddenly sprawled to the ground in a giggling heap. 

Yuuri looked up, dazed. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before, but the smile Victor wore, it was perfect. 

Yuuri didn’t know how it started. One second they were trying to untangle their limbs, and the next, they were tilting their heads, holding their breath. Victor was too close, and then not close enough at all. It felt like a dream when they started to kiss. 

Surely this was a dream, it had to be. Everything Yuuri had here, and he only wanted more, more, more. Yuuri didn’t want to stand, for fear that if they broke apart, the dream would end. 

Victor let out a low groan, his embrace turning to an open-mouthed kiss that moved eagerly down Yuuri’s jaw, settling on his throat as his hands clutched Yuuri’s hips. 

Yuuri felt another pulse of desire. His hands slid down Victor’s bare chest. His eyes lingered on the soul marks, and he dipped his fingers into the waistband of Victor’s trousers. Victor let out an encouraging sound that went straight to Yuuri’s cock. 

Urged on, Yuuri clutched at the fabric, giving it a soft tug. He could feel the bulge inches from his fingers. A sudden flare of desire ripped through him, curling in the pit of his stomach and burning through his skin. 

Yuuri’s pants tightened against his groin. Blood flooded south, and the lightheaded feeling of pure need seemed to supercede all else. Yuuri couldn’t help the soft sound of displeasure, his hips twitching at the sudden tightness between his legs. 

Victor nodded against him. His hands dropped, and he mimicked Yuuri’s eager reach, his fingers twisting against the button and pulling Yuuri’s pants open. 

Relief washed through him. He looked into Victor’s eyes and saw a sea of blue, so deep and wide that it felt like it would swallow Yuuri whole. He closed his eyes and fell back into another eager kiss. Yuuri slid his fingers down into the waistband, popping the button and giving the trousers and underwear a shove down Victor’s leg. 

Victor’s hard cock bobbed up in the air as it was freed, standing tall and proud. Yuuri let Victor shove his own pants off his ankles, overeager, almost clumsy and fumbling. 

In moments, they were stripped bare, exposed to the cool air of Yuuri’s apartment living room, their naked skin prickling with goosebumps. Victor took Yuuri’s wrists between his fingers and gently pulled him up to his feet. Yuuri followed in a daze, their lips never parting. 

“Bedroom,” Victor breathed, an underlying urgency coloring his voice. Desire bubbled through it all. “Where?”

Yuuri tugged him along, their embrace refusing to break. He fumbled with the doorknob. His back hit the mattress with a soft _ whump_, and Victor was suddenly all around him, on his knees and leaning into Yuuri’s touch with an alien kind of enthusiasm. 

Yuuri felt giddy. Victor’s hands started on his chest, smoothing over the skin, stroking his stomach and roaming to his pecs. He cupped Yuuri’s chest in his hands, a thumb on each nipple. He drew circles with his thumbs until Yuuri rasped for air. 

Not to be outdone, Yuuri reached for Victor’s cock. Blindly, his head rolling back with the pleasure boiling through him, he adjusted their cocks to lay beside each other. When he was satisfied with the arrangement, he rolled his hips, grinding up against Victor’s body. It sent stars across his vision, bursts of pleasure as he gave in to the rutting of his hips. 

Victor tasted sweeter than the wine ever could, bubbling through Yuuri’s blood. Their fingers twined together, and Yuuri couldn’t help but stare at the way the soulmarks seemed to bleed down their skin. Consummation of their soulmate bond. 

It spread down their hands, until their soulmarks twined together in a permanent design down their palms, down their fingers. It was love, blooming new and fresh between them. A flush covered Victor’s cheeks. He was breathing hard, moving against Yuuri, and Yuuri held him even closer than before. 

He felt alive. He was flying, the way he felt when he skated Victor’s routines. His body seemed to sing, his blood thrummed bright and boiling through his veins. Heat suffused every inch of him. He came on their stomachs, Victor squeezing their hands tight together as he followed Yuuri close behind. 

They caught their breath. Victor flopped onto the small bed beside Yuuri, staring up at the ceiling with a smile. “That was…”

“Amazing,” Yuuri breathed. His fingers traced along their soulmarks. Victor’s expression softened into a smile. His eyes lit up. 

“Yuuri, you never told me you were a fan of mine!” he said brightly. Yuuri sat up suddenly, the sweet, post-coital haze quickly vanishing. 

Around them leered a dozen beaming Victors plastered on the walls. Yuuri let out an agonized scream. “Nooooo, you were never supposed to see them!” He buried his head under the pillow and refused to come out, no matter how much Victor laughed and tried to pull the pillow off. 

“Yuuri, please, I’m flattered! You should see the collection I’ve got of posters of you! I mean, it’s not as big as your collection yet, but considering I just started it, I think it’s pretty good! Yuuuuuri, please come out.”

“Nooo,” Yuuri groaned. It was more than just embarrassment. He felt stone cold sober now. The moment hit like cold water, and Yuuri was finally awake again. “You deserve someone better than me.”

“Yuuri- oh, come on Yuuri, come out of there.” Victor pushed the pillow off Yuuri’s face. He kissed the tears away, which only made Yuuri cry harder. Victor sat back, confused. “I don’t understand,” he said softly.

Yuuri shook his head. “I’m a failure. I’m not good enough. I was supposed to medal at the Grand Prix. I was supposed to win, I wasn’t supposed to fail, I wasn’t supposed to let everyone down-” Yuuri buried his face in his hands, unable to hold back the wretched sobs.

Victor put a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “It’s not the end, Yuuri. We have Worlds soon, don’t we? And you’ll win Nationals with your eyes closed, surely. With your beautiful step routine, no one else in Japan comes close to touching you.”

“I can’t skate anything,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “I haven’t been able to do any of my routines since I came back. I panic, and I’ll panic again at competition, and I’ll crash and burn just like before.”

“You skated my routine, didn’t you?” Victor said softly. “You put more emotion into Stammi Vicino than I ever have. You’re a beautiful skater, Yuuri. And I want to skate against you again. You wanted me to coach you, right? What if I made good on that offer?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yuuri sniffled. “You can’t skate and coach.”

“I can, and usually do, just about anything I want,” Victor said. “It might be difficult, but I think I would be a great coach! Maybe this summer, I could even choreograph a routine for you, something to really showcase your assets as a skater. Definitely something with an intense step sequence. What jumps can you-”

“Victor, please,” Yuuri said. “I’m serious. What if you lost because you wasted so much time trying to make me better?”

“It’s not a waste to me,” Victor said. “You’re my soulmate now, Yuuri. You’re doing us both a disservice, you know. Talking badly about my soulmate like that, and underestimating your own soulmate.” Victor added a wink on the end.

Yuuri laid back in bed. “How would we even do this? You have to go back to Russia. You can’t stay here forever. And I’ll probably have to leave America soon…”

“You’re right about that, I can’t compete very well without training in my rink, Yakov would murder me in my sleep. Can you send me videos of you skating? We can start like that, and then we can try to meet up and refine your routine! And you’re welcome to come to Russia with me! If… if you want to, I mean.”

Yuuri took a long, slow breath, staring at one of the Victors on the wall. It was funny. As beautiful as the pictures all were, none of them held a candle to Victor in the flesh. Yuuri gazed at the marks on their arms.

“We’ll figure this out,” Yuuri said. He looked up at Victor, feeling more certain than ever. “Whatever happens, we can make this work. I want to make it work. I want this more than anything.”

Victor smiled, and he offered Yuuri his hand. Yuuri shook it. He couldn’t help but once again marvel at their soulmarks in the low light, the interplay of fair skin and brilliant, saturated blues. 

How many years, Yuuri had dreamed of being Victor’s soulmate. He’d be a damned fool to give it up now. Yuuri had fought to learn to skate, so many years ago, and even now, even after everything, he never once regretted that choice. 

And something inside him knew, beyond all shadow of a doubt, that this would be just the same. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want a say in my monthly NSFW fics, or just wanna follow me or say hi, come find me on twitter for more info! https://twitter.com/AurumAuri14


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